Unbound
by Ari Moriarty
Summary: A collection of companion pieces and one-shots related to my story, "Bondswoman."
1. Workaholic

**Author's Note: **For the record, I am NOT THAT OLD. All of you who have compared me to Dojima today, you crazy kids get off my damn lawn!

**Supernova23**, I am throwing down the gauntlet. I challenge you to a one-shot war!

This one is for you.

**Workaholic**

"Dojima-san," said Minako, coming up behind his desk with a fresh cup of coffee. "This is the last one."

"Huh?" mumbled Dojima, trying to get his eyes to focus as he stared blearily down at a set of reports that had been lying on his desk for the last twenty or thirty minutes. He'd been staring at the same word, in the same line for most of that time. For some reason, he just couldn't seem to focus long enough to actually read it…

"I said," repeated Minako, just a little bit louder, "that I am cutting you off."

That got Dojima's attention. Turning around to face her, he gave her the sort of glare that only a caffeine-addict with a short temper and a long night ahead of him can really give.

Unfortunately, as he realized only after he'd made the effort, the look was completely lost on Minako, who continued to stare just past his shoulder with a slightly tired but determined half-smile on her face.

"Don't be ridiculous," he muttered. "You don't get to give orders around here, that's my job."

"Really?" asked Minako. "Because as far as I am aware, sir, you hired me to help keep you on task and on schedule. It's my job to make sure that you, and subsequently this police department run as smoothly as possible, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Dojima grumbled. "So what?"

"So," continued Minako, "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to exercise my veto. If you have things your way, this will make it the second all-nighter you've pulled in a row, which does absolutely no good for your system, your health, or the Inaba police force."

Dojima took a furtive, relaxing sip of the coffee she'd brought him. "You don't get a veto," he informed her, glowering at the fingers of one hand, which had begun, unexpectedly, to twitch.

"I beg to differ, sir," retorted Minako. "If you can't think of your own health, at least think of Nanako."

Nanako, thought Dojima. He did feel a little pang of guilt when he remembered that it had been two nights since he'd bothered to even come home. Sure, Nanako was getting older now. Her cousin was there too, to make sure that she ate and got to bed and school on time. Still…she was his daughter, wasn't she? There was definitely supposed to be some responsibility that went along with that relationship, and possibly even some one-on-one human interaction.

"I'll see her tomorrow," said Dojima. "I can't give up on this tonight. We're never gonna catch this guy if we don't figure out what the pattern is. There's got to be something connecting the victims, something that I just haven't seen yet." Unfortunately, his body chose that moment to make him yawn. Inwardly cursing those treacherous physical reflexes, he shook himself, gulped some more coffee, and returned his attention, as best he could, to the papers in front of him.

"It's no good, Dojima-san," insisted Minako. "You're not going to get there just by trying to force yourself through it. You need some sleep."

What I need, thought Dojima, is some answers, or some hints, or some idea of where to even get started on this case. "You don't understand," he told her. "It's not something that I want to do; it's something that I have to do. It's my job. I don't get to just slack off whenever I start getting tired."

There were a few moments of silence, during which Dojima finally managed to finish reading the page. As he turned over to a new document, he heard Minako shuffle restlessly behind him.

"I do understand," she told him.

"Huh?" he asked.

"I do understand," she repeated. "I know what it's like to have people relying on you, to not get to make your own choices about where and when you get to do certain things. I…I've been there."

Dojima was surprised. For the second time since she'd begun working at the station, he looked at her and saw someone who wasn't a kid, wasn't a teenager, but was instead a grown woman with way more life experience behind her eyes than he ever cared to see in someone her age again. It sent a little shiver down his spine when he saw the way she stared sightlessly into something just behind him, as though she was thinking about responsibilities she'd never completed, or things she'd never accomplished, with disastrous results.

"Just another few hours," he told her, softening slightly in the face of that expression. "I'll try to be home before Nanako wakes up in the morning, okay? Just…just don't cut off the coffee."

Unexpectedly, Minako nodded. "All right," she agreed. "Deal." Then, pulling up a chair, she sat down next to him. "It might help if you talked it through," she added. "Maybe I'm not much of a detective, but I make a great sounding board."

"Heh." Dojima shrugged. "Well, who knows? Maybe that's worth a try." Turning around in his chair, he took a deep breath.


	2. I Am in Blood

**Author's Note:** This is one of the many things that happened while I was trying to stop rewriting **Bondswoman**, Chapter Nine. I guess it's a character study. This takes place during the time in which Dojima and Nanako are still in the hospital. For those of you who have Golden, and have played through Adachi's social link, it's right after he tells Yu he'll stay with Dojima for the night.

**I Am in Blood**

The monitors and machinery in Ryotaro Dojima's hospital room beeped their incessant, monotonous cacophony. In his chair by the bedside, Tohru Adachi closed his eyes and held his head. He hadn't slept properly in weeks.

Although Adachi couldn't say for sure, it had probably already been hours since Yu and his friends had left the hospital. The one small window in the room showed him that night had already fallen, and it was time for him, too, to start heading for home.

"Hang in there, Dojima-san." Knowing that the sleeping detective couldn't hear him, Adachi gave him a reassuring clap on the shoulder, something he probably would never have dared do if his partner was awake. Dojima stirred slightly in his sleep, and Adachi pulled his hand away quickly, worried that he might have woken the other man up after all.

He'd probably just shout at me, he thought wryly. He'd say something about going home and minding my own business, or about how I should be on the murderer's trail, instead of slacking off here at the hospital. It would never occur to him to say thank you, for talking to the nurses, checking up on Nanako, or looking after Yu. "Thank you," didn't seem to be in Dojima's vocabulary.

_And that,_ said the ugly, unwelcome little thoughts in the back of Adachi's sleep-deprived mind, _is why you want to do it. Now, while you're alone, while there are no witnesses. _

Only a few minutes ago, the nurse had come in wheeling a portable TV set, apparently for Dojima's benefit during his stay. Adachi knew that Dojima wouldn't even turn the thing on. He was too preoccupied with worry about Nanako. He wouldn't even want to watch the news. For once, nothing happening in the rest of the world would matter to him at all.

The TV screen was larger than the usual mounted ones, and was probably big enough to fit a grown man's head and shoulders. All Adachi would have to do would be to wheel the TV over, prop Dojima up, and just push him right through the…

"No," muttered Adachi aloud. "No, that's crazy. He's my partner. I don't want to hurt him. Sure, he's a pain in the ass sometimes, and he treats me like a kid, but…"

_But you do want to,_ came the ugly thoughts. _Think of how much easier it would be if he just went away. Then you'd be in charge. You could pick a new partner, someone who would pay attention to you, someone who would take your work seriously. _

"I don't," insisted Adachi frantically. "I don't want that. The guy invites me over for dinner three nights out of the week. Last week he gave me first pick of this really expensive sushi. And Nanako-chan…" He realized he was talking to himself in a room with a sleeping man, and stopped, laughing a little bit nervously at his own behavior. "I…think I'm going crazy," he mumbled. "Great. Just great."

Thinking of Nanako-chan made him remember something, and he reached into the pocket of his jacket to pull out a torn, crumpled piece of crayon-colored paper. When he unwrapped it, or at least, most of it, it turned out to be what was left over of a picture that Nanako had drawn of Dojima and Adachi, with a little yellow sun and what was probably a snow-covered tree in the background.

"I don't want to do this anymore," whispered Adachi, to Dojima, to himself, and to no one.


	3. Partners

**Author's Note: **It is after 2:00 in the morning, and no matter how hard I try, I can't sleep. This is very bad, because I have to be awake again for work in four hours, and I am performing tomorrow night, so a night of no sleep is a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad idea.

I've given myself the next forty five minutes to free write. I am hoping that will help me fall asleep again. Let's see what happens if I just start typing!

**Partners**

Some days, it was hard for Ryotaro Dojima to watch the two of them together.

His nephew, Yu Narukami, had made a series of fast friends in what seemed like mere moments after he'd arrived in Inaba. One of those friends, perhaps his very best friend, was Yosuke Hanamura, the boy who Dojima knew belonged to the family who ran the Junes shopping center that was the controversial talk of the dying Inaba shopping district. Hanamura was, of course, your typical obnoxiously charming teenage kid, and Dojima hadn't really ever paid him much attention before. It was only after he'd heard the two of them talking together in Yu's room that he'd started to think about the pair of them in earnest. Hanamura had said something in particular, something unusual that sent an unexpected little chill down Dojima's spine.

_Hey, we're partners now, right? So don't worry, I've got your back. _

Hanamura had called him and Yu "partners," although Dojima had to admit that he wasn't sure exactly what sort of crime the two of them were 'partners' in. No doubt it was some sort of bizarre teenage slang, one of the various words that kids these days came up with, used, and threw away again without so much as a second thought. It shouldn't have bothered him, but…somehow, for the next few days, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that he got every time he found himself picturing Yu and Hanamura together, arms around each other, talking in hushed and confidential tones about something that Dojima probably didn't even need to understand. It reminded him all too well of another time, another place, and another person who had once pronounced the word "partner" with the same glib, easy assurance. It had meant something then, too, although even now Dojima wasn't entirely sure what that had been.

Tohru Adachi had been younger than Dojima, essentially a kid as far as the older detective had been concerned. When the higher ups had transferred Adachi to Inaba, and assigned him as Dojima's new partner, Dojima hadn't been too happy at first. No, that wasn't fair. He hadn't just been unhappy, he'd been livid. What business did this kid have taking on serious crime? Maybe once, before the murders began, it would have made sense to let Dojima train a rookie cop like this, but now that there was a legitimate case to consider, it was unthinkable that he had to waste his time keeping track of a lazy, good for nothing youngster who spent most of his time avoiding work and hanging out looking bored around the Junes food court.

It wasn't until he'd taken pity on Adachi, and invited him home for dinner one night that Dojima had discovered, to his surprise, and partially against his will that he actually sort of liked his new partner. Sure, Adachi was a pain in the ass, a difficult to train and constantly making mistakes that were even stupider than the ones he'd made the day before, but…he was a nice guy. He got along with Nanako, even helping her, as she told him one night when he finally got home from work, with her homework. He'd drawn a little flower on her completed book report assignment, which she was proudly showing off to everyone who would be willing to look. When they went out together after work, Adachi never drank. Instead, he waited for Dojima to get unreasonably drunk and then always helped him to stumble back home again. That was a new feeling for Dojima. Since Chisato had died, he'd never had someone in his life who he felt might be taking the time to look out for him. Once he'd been alone with Nanako, it had always been the other way around. He was the authority figure; he had to be the bigger man. It wasn't fair to expect any give and take. He had to look out for the people he loved, without much time allotted to give any thought to himself.

Tohru Adachi had changed that a little bit. Sure, Dojima still had to chase him around and try to force him to get his goddamn job done, but at the end of the day, it had been Adachi making sure that Dojima went home and got dinner, or a good night's sleep, or both. Against his will, against his better, reasoned judgment, Dojima had enjoyed the feeling of knowing that someone else had his back, and he redoubled his efforts to keep Adachi out of trouble, promising the younger man that if he only stuck with it and worked hard, he'd advance and get some real recognition sooner or later. He'd wanted to Adachi to succeed. That, he assumed, was what the word 'partners' meant, and he'd been beginning to revel in the possibilities of what might have almost been a friendship when the blow had finally fallen.

Nobody had seen it coming. Dojima still cursed himself and lost sleep at night over the fact that he, who had been closest to the situation, hadn't managed to figure out what was going on before so many lives had been put at risk. He'd been blinded, he knew, blinded by the fact that he wanted Adachi to be the man that he'd always appeared to be, the bumbling, confused, good-hearted rookie detective that Dojima had almost begun to trust as a member of the broken family he'd worked so hard to construct. Maybe, he'd thought to himself so many times, maybe if he hadn't been so blinded by the word 'partner,' he would have realized the truth much sooner. After all, it was his job to dismiss biases and to look at situations for what they really were. Why, in this case, had it been so hard?

In the end, Adachi had gone to prison, and it had looked as though they were going to assign Dojima a new partner. This time, however, he'd refused. He'd made the case that he was better off working alone, that having to watch someone else's back all the time took him away from the important jobs that he, as an experienced detective, should really be doing. The higher ups had argued, and he'd cajoled, and eventually everyone had gotten what they wanted. The case had been closed, and no one had forced Dojima to take on a new partner. He was permitted, from then on, to work alone.

At least, he was sure that was the best way, the way that things really needed to be, until he heard Hanamura and Yu confiding in each other that night.

_Hey, we're partners now, right? So don't worry, I've got your back. _

Now, whenever he saw the two of them together, all he managed to feel was the uncomfortable emptiness of knowing that nothing was ever as sweet and simple as it seemed.

**Author's Note: **Well, that was interesting. I'm going to try to go back to sleep now. I certainly hope this document doesn't have too many typos.


	4. Pianissimo

**Author's Note: **What is this? I don't' know what this is. I guess it is more of Adachi's back story, as I try to help myself understand a character that I am dealing with so heavily in **Bondswoman**. This one's very different though. It's long before he went crazy.

I guess the idea came from Adachi's social link, during which you learn that he is "good with his hands," likes magic tricks, and had parents who were obsessive about education. I've been dealing with his crazy, sexually driven side so much in **Bondswoman** that I wanted to show something else. I think this is a legitimate side of his personality as well.

Special thanks for this one goes to **Yuruya** for encouraging me and being extra supportive, and to **Flowerchild777** for telling me that I don't suck nearly as much as I think I do at portraying this character.

**Pianissimo**

Adachi had been seven years old when his parents had started his piano lessons.

"Tohru," his mother had told him imperiously, looming over him as he tried desperately to hide his toys behind his back, "a certain musical aptitude is a necessary part of a well-rounded educational experience for a young man who is destined for a bright and promising future."

"Trust me," his father had said, with a wink that had made him just a little bit uncomfortable. "It'll help you get all the girls when you're older. Girls love a man who's good with his hands."

At seven years old, Adachi hadn't been particularly interested in either his bright future or his luck with women, but, because his parents had insisted, he had dutifully practiced on the piano keys every night of the week for nine years, until his mother was finally able to tell all of her discerningly artistic friends that her son was, no doubt, the successor to Mozart or Takemitsu.

Although his technique improved, and he was soon dazzling the audiences at all of his school recitals, he had none of the promised success with women until, at the age of twenty one, his mother had asked him to play a piece to entertain the guests at a family party. He might have refused her if it hadn't been for the young, attractive brunette who was sitting at the back of the room, apparently some distant relation of his through the marriage of one of his mother's cousins. She was a couple of years younger than him, and he'd never really taken the time to notice her before, but now, it was all he could do to focus on the sheet music and force himself not to keep turning to glance at her over his shoulder, to see whether or not she was smiling while he played.

"What's your name?" he asked her, when his mother had finally left him alone to go and attend to her various social duties.

""I'm Hinata," she told him. "I love your music. It's beautiful, the way you play. Like your fingers are dancing."

After that, Adachi had spent at least an hour every day agonizing over the piano. He didn't particularly enjoy playing, or have any reason to try and impress his mother, now that he was out of college and living on his own dime. Still, as long as he would play for her, Hinata would come and listen, and long as she listened, she'd stick around and keep him company.

He'd played for her the day he'd made her dinner for the first time. The dinner had been a catastrophe, and eventually they'd ordered takeout in defeat, but the music had at least partially made up for the embarrassment of that little episode. She'd laughed and told him not to worry, that as long as he was good at something, he didn't have to be good at everything. Adachi had liked that. The idea of being so good at something that it made up for everything else appealed to him. He felt as though he'd found a niche.

He had played for her when he'd asked her to marry him, on a very cold day in February when they'd been stuck inside because of an unexpected snowfall. His heat wasn't working because he hadn't been able to pay the bill on time, so instead they wrapped blankets around each other and he played the piano to try and take her mind off of the weather. He'd been planning for months to pop the question, and when he finally did, he was so nervous that he dropped the ring and it fell into one of the cracks in the floorboards. It took hours and three different coat hangers to fish it out, but Hinata just laughed while she got down on her hands and knees to help him, telling him that he could make it up to her by playing her a beautiful love song.

Things had started looking up after that. He'd been offered a job by the police department, and for the first time since he'd moved out of his wealthy parents' home, there had been enough money for three meals a day and to consistently pay the heating bill. He'd even picked up a side job doing magic tricks at a local bar, something he'd unexpectedly discovered that he was good at one morning when he'd been trying to cheer Hinata up after she'd fought with a friend of hers from work. She'd encouraged him to see if he could make something out of it, and before long, he had a pretty popular, if small local act.

It hadn't been until a few months before the wedding was scheduled to take place that Hinata had broken down at the breakfast table, sobbing and repeating over and over that she wished she'd told him before, that she was sorry, and that she'd never meant for it to work out this way. Apparently, there was another man, an American businessman with an impressive family fortune and his face plastered all over the papers above headlines about his up-and-coming success story.

"But what did you expect, Tohru?" she'd asked accusingly, around her floods of tears."You're a cop, a magician, a piano player…you're so sweet, but you can't offer me anything to start a family with. How are we supposed to start a life together w hen you can't even figure out how to have one for yourself? I need a man who can provide, a man who has what it takes. All you have are talents, but they're no real use!"

He hadn't asked her to stay. Several years later, she'd called him on the phone to tell him that she'd heard about his transfer, and that she and her husband of three years wished him well in his new life in Inaba. By then, Adachi didn't care anymore. There was nothing she could say. There was nothing anyone could say. He understood, now, something that he'd never been allowed to understand when he was a child, and had never bothered to understand during the few happy years that he'd spent playing piano for Hinata in the kitchen.

He wasn't good enough. In the end, though, neither was she. They had both turned out to be worthless.


	5. Humans and Demons

**Author's Note: **So, this evening, I am miserable. It has been a horrible, sad week full of unpleasant, disappointing things. I tried calling my boyfriend, but he's unavailable. I tried talking to my best friend, but she's military, and tears make her uncomfortable. Even calling my mom is out of the question at this time of night. Finally, I realized. There is one surefire way to get me out of this funk – I must write about someone who is even more mopey and pathetic than I am. Time for some Adachi x Minako!

So, if we're looking at the timeline of my stories, this story takes place directly after chapter 22 of **Bondswoman**. I know from the poll that I posted today that at least a couple of my favorite readers are intrigued by this pairing, so I'll post this story and see what happens.

WARNING: Offensive language, misogyny.

**Humans and Demons**

It was nearly 2 AM, and all of the lights in the Inaba police station were out, save for the one attached to the flashlight held by the unreasonably tall security guard standing just a few feet in front of Tohru Adachi's cell. Adachi himself, slumped down on the floor with his wrists aching dully from the continued pressure of Detective Dojima's personal handcuffs, loathed that particular security guard. He hadn't spent much time noticing or caring about any of the others. They were just poor stiffs doing their job like everybody else, nobody worth paying attention to. There was something special about this one, though. There was something special he had, that Adachi wanted.

"Hey," he called out. "Hey, you. Guard."

The security guard didn't even look in his direction.

"That blind girl who works for Dojima-san. You're sleeping with her, right?"

This time, the guard started, and turned to stare in at Adachi. "What did you say?" he asked.

"I asked you," repeated Adachi, "if you are screwing the blind girl who works at the desk behind the-!"

Suddenly, the security guard was very close to Adachi's face, and Adachi could feel his hot, angry breath beating down on him through the bars. "Shut up," he growled menacingly. "Shut the hell up about her." Adachi found himself wondering just how much this brand new security guard was devoted to his job. Was he so devoted that he'd pass up the chance to beat the crap out of Adachi for talking like that about his girlfriend?

"She's pretty cute, huh?" pushed Adachi recklessly. "A little younger than you, though. I guess it's probably nice, being with a younger girl. I mean, hey, you're lucky. I'm jealous. If I had a girl like that, I'd be all over-!"

"She's better than you'll ever get," muttered the guard, turning away. Adachi was disappointed. Was that all?

"Hey," he said again, trying to recapture the guard's attention. The guard, however, didn't even seem to notice. He was staring over towards the station doors, apparently having either lost or rejected any interest he'd previously had in the prisoner. Dejectedly, Adachi sighed and stretched out on the floor of his cell. There was no fun, apparently, to be had tonight. He might as well just get some sleep.

The guard had been right, he thought, as he closed his eyes and willed himself to drift off. She was, after all, too good for him, definitely better than he could ever deserve. Maybe it was because she was so young that she was still good enough to be better than him. After all, so many older women tended to be jaded, or catty, running around and sleeping with anything that would smile or throw a few dollars or cheap presents in their direction.

He'd seen it all before, too many times to bother thinking about. After all, being a policeman let him into some of the most broken homes of families gone horribly, almost hilariously wrong. This woman had cheated on her husband, and then run off with her new man and all of her husband's money. That woman had murdered her husband after marrying him, only so that she could get his money in the first place. The worst women, the ones that made even Adachi a little bit sick to his hardened stomach, were the ones that didn't' cry. Their husbands or lovers would get murdered or killed in some bar fight, and when Adachi went to interview them, or to pass along the bad news, they never batted an eyelash or seemed to care at all about the deaths of these guys they'd spent so much time and effort pretending to love.

Adachi's mother hadn't cried when his father passed away. He had cried, even though he knew that crying wasn't something a fourteen year old man was ever supposed to let himself do. His grandmother and grandfather had cried, but his mother had just sat there with this blank, stoic look in her eyes as though all the effort in the world couldn't make one tiny tear fall out of her stupid face. Adachi had hated her then. He hated her less, now, having seen so many women who did the same damn thing, or worse. Maybe it hadn't been his mother's fault. Maybe that was just the way that women were, deep down inside.

Even as he worked himself through those all too familiar thoughts, however, Minako's face popped back up in Adachi's head. She, at least, was something special, something unexpected. She had this tiny face that was so expressive, it painted a perfect guileless picture of exactly what dumbass thoughts were going through her crazy, naïve little mind. The way she laughed, the way she talked, the way she shouted at him through the cell bars, it was all so sincere that Adachi could see it hurting behind her sightless eyes. It was a shame, he decided idly, that she couldn't see. Maybe if she'd ever gotten a chance to look at herself in the mirror, she'd have learned how to fix her face a little bit, so not everything showed so obviously. She'd never get anywhere in life being so damn honest all over her face like that.

"Damnit," he muttered, shifting over and curling up on the cold floor. He'd promised himself to stop thinking about her.

"Huh?" asked the guard. "Did you say something?"

Adachi considered taunting him again, now that he had his attention. Somehow, he didn't feel much like doing it anymore. "Nah," he said. "Nothing."

The guard went back to whatever pointless vigilance he was keeping, and Adachi went back to trying not to think about Minako. She had gotten so angry that day, when he'd started teasing her about cheating on her boyfriend. He'd been angry too, then, after seeing the way that she'd cuddled up to the guy after having come on so strongly and obviously to him. Something about her had been broken for him, then, when he'd thought she was just like all the others. The pedestal that he'd unconsciously been keeping her on had buckled under her, and it had hurt him more than her when she'd come crashing from that height to the ground.

Still, when she'd denied it, when she'd insisted that she never meant to betray anyone, but that she'd made a mistake, one that she'd regretted moments later, there had been that look on her face that Adachi couldn't deny. It had been the truth. It was always the truth, with her.

"I wanted to," she'd told him, and that, too, was the truth. It had to be. That was what had kept him spinning around in his head all day, and what was keeping him from falling asleep now. It wasn't the cold floor, or the flashlight beam, or the eerie soundlessness of the holding cell. Again, and always, it was Minako. "I still want-!" she'd begun, and then she'd cut herself off, embarrassed and furious. Adachi was killing himself to know what the rest of that sentence might have been. It didn't matter, of course. What she still wanted wouldn't make a difference now, and never could again. Still, hope was a demon unlike any other that Adachi had faced, and he'd faced his fair share of horrible demons over the last two year period. Unlike all of the others, hope was incorruptible, unshakeable, and couldn't be shouted down or forced out to make room for despair or the cold, hard facts.

Hope was the monster that had pushed him out onto the flood plain at 4 AM, clutching an ice cream cone and a bouquet of pink flowers like some idiotic sap. He'd felt stupid and vulnerable standing there, not even sure if she was going to show up, getting cold in a clean shirt and brand new tie that he'd only bothered to buy because she'd giggled and called him a "snappy dresser." She'd spawned that hope when she'd told him to just "ask her out like a normal person." For some reason, despite everything he knew to be true, Adachi had reacted to that just like any other man would have done, as though he could have a chance to be any other man. She'd held that possibility out for him, dangling the chance of real, tantalizingly human affection in front of him like a slab of meat in front of a starving man. He wanted her, craved just to have her look at him like that again, the way she'd looked at him when she'd promised him that she could prove that, after all, he was really human.

Belatedly, and somewhat perversely, Adachi wondered if he would ever be able to get her that ice cream. After all, she'd won the game. She'd proved, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that even he was a human being. After all, even if he couldn't believe it and didn't deserve it, only humans were really capable of hope. Now that he'd found that part of himself, he might be stuck with it for the rest of his life. What would he do if that happened? He was already turning into something out of his nightmares, a useless, idealistic sack of shit, hung up on someone he'd never be able to touch again. It was horrifying. It was also wonderful. That, in itself, was just plain scary.

"Jeez," he muttered under his breath. "Thanks for nothing, blind girl."

**Author's Note: **Oh, wow, I…actually feel a lot better. Maybe I should make more of a habit of these ill-advised midnight writing sprees. Thanks for taking the time to read!


	6. We Can Work it Out

**Author's Note: **Didn't sleep. Homeworked instead. Desperate to take a break from writing this infernal paper, I stopped to write a one-shot. Unfortunately, now I have to go back to work. Alas, alack.

This one is for **Meia42**, for all the excellent and helpful conversations that we have had, and for reminding me that the P3 characters need some love, too.

If you're looking at the timeline, this little story takes place directly after the end of **Bondswoman.**

**We Can Work It Out**

Minako still wasn't quite sure how Chie had talked her into this.

The morning after her birthday party, stuffed full of cake and sparkling apple cider, she'd woken up on the floor of the Dojima residence to meet the stern and disapproving gaze of her boss, Ryotaro Dojima, who had been sitting in the kitchen glowering at her and the rest of her passed-out friends for the past hour and a half.

It was obvious immediately that something was wrong.

"Hey," she'd heard Junpei whisper to Rise, from where they lay somewhat awkwardly entangled next to the sofa. "Weren't you the one who asked Dojima-san if it was okay for us to use his place last night?"

"Oooh…" Rise had murmured. "Um…well…I think I forgot…"

Minako had gotten off of the floor so fast that she'd smacked right into the base of the sofa and had left the house half-hopping on one foot, cursing her painfully stubbed toe.

Then, reluctantly, she'd gone back in to help Yu, Yosuke, and Nanako clean up the piles of mess.

While they'd been throwing empty cups and leftover cake plates into a big black trash bag, Chie had sighed, stretched her arms over her head, and remarked, "I ate sooo much last night…I feel kinda heavy. Hey, Minako, let's go for a run. We can have an all-girls workout day! That'll take your mind off of Shinjiro-san, right? It's perfect!"

Minako, who had actually been managing not to think about Shinjiro until Chie had brought it up, sighed. "No thanks," she muttered. "I don't think I'm really up for-!"

"Oh, that's not a bad idea," Yukari had interjected, before Minako had gotten to finish her sentence. "I wouldn't mind getting a little bit of exercise. I mean, I think I might be starting to put on a little bit of weight…"

"I'm sure you look fine," Minako had insisted.

Yukari had just sighed. "No offense," she told Minako, "but you're not exactly the right person to ask…"

In the end, several of the girls had decided to go. While Yukiko and Rise had stuck around to hang out with Nanako and the boys, Yukari, Mitsuru, Fuuka, and Chie had all insisted on dragging Minako out to the floodplain to go for what Chie insisted would be a nice, relaxing jog.

Now, running full tilt, panting and straining just to keep up, Minako had to admit that Chie had been right. This was definitely taking her mind off of Shinjiro. She was struggling just to remember to breathe.

"So," asked Yukari, her breath coming out in labored little gasps as she and Minako ran along side by side. "Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Yes," agreed Mitsuru, who, for some reason, seemed totally unruffled by the breakneck pace. "I confess that I have been curious about just what went wrong between you two. After all, when we left you both here after the resealing, it did seem as though you were getting along very well."

Minako frowned. Mitsuru, she realized, would of course have been very interested in exactly how well she and Shinjiro were getting along. After all, as long as Minako was spending time with Shinjiro, she'd be leaving Akihiko alone. Now that things were over between Minako and Shinjiro, however, Minako could only assume that Mitsuru would be worried that she'd start pursuing Akihiko again. Hadn't Junpei said, just the other night, that Minako was the sort of girl who'd go for any kind of guy? And, of course, a girl like Minako, who would date just anything, would probably never let herself stay single for long.

"Hey, guys? Maybe we shouldn't ask," Fuuka was saying, sounding uncertain. "I mean, Minako's probably had a really hard time over the last few days. The last thing she needs is all these questions, I'm sure."

Thank god, thought Minako, for gentle, understanding Fuuka.

They ran on for a few minutes in silence, save for the rasping and the panting, and the pounding of their feet against the ground.

Eventually, though, Yukari couldn't seem to keep it in anymore. "I'm worried about you," she insisted. "It's not that I'm trying to pry, or anything, I just wish I knew what to say. It's hard to figure out how to make someone feel better if you don't even know what happened in the first place!"

"Don't…want to feel better," muttered Minako, wondering if that nasty little twinge in her chest was something she should be seriously worried about. Where exactly was the heart? Or was that pain more likely to be in her lungs? "Just…want to forget about it."

"That doesn't sound very wise," murmured Mitsuru. "It is almost impossible to get over someone if you're unable even to think about them."

"Look," began Minako haltingly. "I really appreciate you guys coming down here, I really do…it's just that I wasn't really expecting this to turn into some kind of pity…oof!"

Focusing too hard on the conversation, Minako forgot to pay attention to where she was putting her feet, and managed to trip over something that may or may not have been a rock. She hoped it had been a rock, and not a turtle, or a piece of poorly-placed road pizza.

Whatever the mysterious object had been, it sent Minako crashing to the ground. She managed to catch herself on her hands and knees, and sat there in the dirt for a moment, with her back awkwardly hunched, just letting herself continue to breathe.

"Hey, Minako? Whoa, ow, that looks bad! Are you okay? "Chie came running over to her. "You should have said something if you were getting tired."

Minako tried hard to glare in Chie's direction. How, s he wondered, could anyone not start getting tired after a race like that? The boys weren't kidding when they said that Chie really gave them a run for their money.

"I think it's time to take a break," announced Fuuka. Minako heard the other girl settle down beside her. "I'm exhausted. Wow, Chie, you're so strong!"

"Agreed," murmured Mitsuru, joining the others. "Your stamina is impressive. Magnifique. Out of curiosity, what are you thinking of doing after you graduate from university? I might have an excellent job for you…"

Before long, all five women were sitting on the side of the road and chatting idly amongst themselves. This, at least, thought Minako, was genuinely sort of relaxing. It had been a very long time since she'd just sat and talked with her girlfriends like this. Everything lately had just started happening so quickly, there hadn't been any time at all to catch her breath, whether literally or figuratively. The last time she'd been down here, in fact, she'd been looking for Tohru.

Just thinking about Tohru sent a flood of negative feelings through Minako's mind. She was angry, frustrated, guilty and disappointed all at the same time. If she really tried, she knew, she could paint it as though it was Tohru's fault that Shinjiro had left her. After all, it had been Tohru who had decided to just walk up and kiss her like that, with no warning, out of nowhere.

But, she reasoned with herself, she could have said no. She hadn't even really wanted to. There was no way around that fact.

"Hello? Minako? Are you listening to me?" Yukari's voice cut through Minako's self-deprecating reverie. "I was saying that I think we should go and get some lunch, soon. Chie says there's this fantastic steak place just around the corner from here, in the shopping district. What do you think? I mean, steak seems kind of a weird thing to eat right after we've put all this effort into burning calories…"

Minako, still fixated on her own thoughts, shook her head. "No, I'm not hungry," she said. Then, following the train of the conversation she'd been having with herself, she asked, "Yukari? Can I ask you a weird question?"

"Um…sure." Yukari sounded surprised. "I guess so. What's up?"

Minako decided to go for broke. "Have you ever cheated on anyone?" she asked.

There was a long, contemplative silence. Minako, her face flushing with embarrassment, could just imagine the looks being exchanged between the former members of SEES. Chie had already known, of course, that there was someone else in the picture. Minako had told her, Rise, and Yukiko all about it during their little shopping trip to Okian. Yukari, Mitsuru, and Fuuka, however, would be hearing about this for the first time, and they were personal friends of Shinjiro's. Maybe, thought Minako, she should have just kept her mouths hut after all.

"No," said Yukari slowly after a moment. "I…don't' think I have. Um, is that why you and Shinjiro…? Did he cheat on you with somebody else?"

Minako started. "What?" she asked. "No, no, that's not what I meant. He didn't…he would never do something like that."

"Oh, right." Yukari sounded relieved. "Yeah, I did think that would be pretty strange."

"It was me," continued Minako. "I was the one who cheated."

Again, the silence stretched out for several uncomfortable moments.

Finally, it was Fuuka who spoke up. "Would you like to talk about it?" she asked kindly.

Until this moment, Minako had not wanted to talk about it. There had been very little in the world that she had wanted to talk about less. It wasn't as though telling anyone was going to change what had happened, or make her feel any less like a horrible person.

Still, Mitsuru had been right when she'd said only minutes before that it was important to learn to be able to talk about things. There wouldn't be any closure until she could manage to voice all of this stuff out loud.

"Yeah," said Minako. "I think I would like to tell you. But…you have to promise not to get angry or to shout at me until you've heard the whole story, okay?"

Slowly, and somewhat uncertainly, Minako began to regale her SEES friends with the events that had taken place between her and Tohru Adachi. Conscious of Chie's presence, Minako was careful to avoid any mention of events that might give away Tohru's actual identity, unsure if Chie would ever speak to her again if she found out who Minako's mystery man really was.

"And then he saw me with this other guy," she finished, "just after the final battle. I wanted to tell him before that, but…he insisted that he didn't want to hear about it."

"Hmm," murmured Mitsuru thoughtfully. "It sounds to me as though Shinjiro already knew about what had taken place between you and this older man. Otherwise, why would he have rejected you so strongly when you tried to tell him the truth?"

"Wow, he must have been scared," agreed Fuuka. "That's so strange, thinking of Shinjiro-san as scared. You really do have an effect on people, Mina-chan."

"I didn't mean to," insisted Minako desperately. "I wasn't trying to deceive him, or anything like that. I didn't want to have two boyfriends. I just…things just got out of control." She realized that she was pleading with them to understand, and that she sounded frankly pathetic, but didn't much care.

Fuuka sighed. "Well, you did try to tell him the truth," she reasoned. "I don't see that you did anything wrong."

"Wha…? Wait, how can you say that she didn't do anything wrong?" Unexpectedly, Yukari sounded offended. "She was with another man! How could that not be 'wrong?' There's nothing not 'wrong' about it!"

Minako's heart sank. "Yukari," she murmured.

Fuuka, however, didn't seem ready to cede the point. "You say that now because you're married, Yukari. You're looking at everything differently. You and your husband are happy together. It…it doesn't sound as though Minako and Shinjiro-san were very happy."

Minako heard Yukari shift uncomfortably next to her. "That doesn't make it any better," she insisted. "When you commit to something, you have to stick with it. Love doesn't work out by magic, okay?"

Fuuka sounded just a little sad, as she asked, "But love is supposed to have just a little magic in it, don't' you think? Isn't that what makes it wonderful?"

"You're just saying that because you've never been in a relationship," snorted Yukari.

It was beginning to sound as though Fuuka and Yukari were going to get into a fully fledged argument, when Mitsuru, both literally and figuratively, put her foot down.

"Enough," she announced. "We didn't come out here today to squabble like children. Let us at least try to demonstrate a little bit of decorum, shall we? I thought this was supposed to be about making Minako feel better, not worse."

Minako absolutely felt worse. She was glad that she couldn't see any of their faces, sure that at least Yukari would be staring at her with disappointment and distaste in her usually friendly eyes. Mitsuru, for all of her intervening on Minako's behalf, probably felt the same way. After all, Mitsuru was a traditionalist in so many respects, raised with good morals and good manners. Minako, in comparison, was a loose, worthless floozy.

"Everyone probably hates me, now," she mumbled to herself, aware that the self pity wasn't getting here anywhere.

Unexpectedly, Yukari spoke up. "Wait, huh? No, nobody hates you. I never said that. That's not what I meant at all."

Minako heard Yukari scoot over to her across the muddy ground, and felt a comforting hand rest against her shoulder blade. "Look," said Yukari, "all I was trying to say was that…"

Suddenly, a rumbling growl broke through whatever it was that Yukari was about to tell her. Minako was alarmed for a moment, until the laughter and groans from the other girls made her realize that the growl had come not from some roadside predator, but instead from Chie's stomach.

"Uh, sorry," muttered Chie, obviously embarrassed. "It's just that everyone was talking about food, and then I started getting really hungry…"

As they all climbed back on to their feet, Yukari reached down to help Minako up. "Come on," she said. "Actually, steak is starting to sound like a great idea right about now."


	7. A Healthy Breakfast

Author's Note:Another forty minute free-write. My two favorite guys, Dag, and my little brother Daniel are both in town! So, with that in mind, here is a manly (sort-of) moment.

If you're looking at the timeline of my stories, you'll want to place this one in between the end of Bondswoman, and the beginning of Piecekeeping. Obviously, this is another "after the break-up" story.

I owe you all a major Piecekeeping update, but you'll probably have to wait another couple of days for that. These next few are going to be very busy for me, and I'm having a hard time finding a moment to sit down and spend the required couple of hours carefully sewing up the plotholes.

In the meantime, here's something to tide you over, I hope.

Okay, timer on…forty minutes starts…now!

Healthy Breakfast

"Hey…Shinji?" asked Akihiko, coming back into the room, still sweating and red-faced after his morning run. "I didn't know you were up yet. You want breakfast, or something?"

"No thanks," muttered Shinjiro. "I'm not hungry."

Akihiko had been surprised, the night before, when Shinjiro had suddenly and unexpectedly showed up on his doorstep, with a half-packed suitcase and huge dark circles under his half-lidded, bloodshot eyes. Akihiko hadn't asked any questions. Shinjiro wouldn't have liked that. Besides, it didn't really matter what the reason was. With just a hint of shame in his undertone, Shinjiro had asked if he could spend the week on Akihiko's couch, and Akihiko hadn't even considered saying no.

Now, after having listened to Shinjiro pacing noisily around on the kitchen floor for most of the night, Akihiko was starting to get just a little worried. This new development just clinched it.

"Wait, seriously?" he asked. "No breakfast? What the hell, man…aren't you the one who's always telling me how important it is to eat right, stay healthy, and all that crap?"

Shinjiro just shrugged. "That's you," he grunted. "This is me. It's different."

"How's that work?" Akihiko insisted.

"It's just different," muttered Shinjiro.

He didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, but Akihiko was used to that. Shinjiro was never in the mood to talk, especially about himself, or anything that might be bothering him. It was an awkward situation. Akihiko had begun to suspect, of course, what the trouble was. It wasn't a hard deduction to do, not after seeing the suitcase and the dark circles. Still, mend didn't ask each other if they wanted to "try talking about it." Men weren't supposed to "talk about it," or even care about it, whatever "it" was. Manly support was silent, stoic support.

Then, of course, there were days like today, when being a man's man wasn't good enough. Shinjiro clearly needed a friend, whether he liked it or not.

"Stop it," growled Shinjiro.

Akihiko blinked at him. "Stop what?"

"Looking at me like that," clarified Shinjiro. "You're feeling sorry for me."

"For you?" Akihiko snorted out a laugh. "That's not likely. I'm just getting tired of watching you sit around on your ass, that's all. I mean, at least get up and cook something. You're good at that, and I'm hungry, even if you aren't. You can't just crash at my place for free, you know."

For a moment, Shinjiro glared, looking like he was going to argue. Akihiko stared him quietly down, although he was suddenly very conscious of the many places on his body where, in the past, Shinjiro had given him a good sock and ended up making him bleed during one of their "little arguments." He wasn't really itching for a fight, this morning, especially not with a guy who looked as beaten down as Shinjiro did. It would either be too easy, or crazy hard to win. It was never easy to tell with Shinji.

"Fine," grumbled Shinjiro eventually, getting to his feet. "Whatever."

Shinjiro trudged off into the kitchen, and Akihiko listened to the sound of him banging around with pots and pans. The noises were louder than they usually were when Shinjiro cooked, as though he was doing his best to take out whatever he was feeling on the poor, defenseless cooking utensils.

Not that Akihiko really cared. It wasn't like he owned anything expensive, or that couldn't be replaced. All the fancy shit that Mitsuru had given him was still sitting in a box down in the basement, where it would stay until he went "poof" and turned into a pansy who liked to use dishes with flowery patterns on them. Nah, All Shinji was going to find on the shelves in the kitchen were plastic plates and forks, and he could do as much damage to them as he felt like.

"Hey!" Akihiko called. "What's all that noise about? I thought you were making breakfast, not turning my kitchen into a warzone."

"Shut up," retorted Shinjiro. "I can't find your damn spatula. Do you even have a spatula?"

"What the hell," asked Akihiko, "is a spatula?"

Shinjiro laughed shortly. "Yeah," he said. "I figured."

After another few moments, the noise died down again. "What are you making?" persisted Akihiko. "Pancakes?"

Shinjiro didn't answer immediately. "Eggs," he said, after a moment. Then, he added, more darkly then Akihiko had expected, "I hate fucking pancakes."

Akihiko shrugged. "Okay," he told Shinjiro. "Eggs are good. I like eggs. Protein, right? Eggs have protein in them."

"Yeah," said Shinjiro. "They do."

Akihiko nodded to himself, turned around, and started heading up the stairs for a post-workout shower. "Cool," he said. "Okay, call me when you're done."

As he made his way towards the bathroom door, Akihiko smiled very slightly to himself. Okay, maybe he wasn't much of a shoulder to cry on, but at least now, Shinjiro was doing something. Sometimes, having something to do to distract you was healthier for the soul than all the talking in the whole world.


End file.
